


i would have let you leave

by xocean



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, JonSa if you squint, i blame the actors, imma go down w this ship, oh well, season 7, still disgusting, technically cousins?, what is hype may never die, yalls chemistry is too strong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 20:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11608530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xocean/pseuds/xocean
Summary: Jon and Sansa, a conversation before Dragonstone.s7x02.JonSa if you squint.





	i would have let you leave

"You need to stop doing this." Sansa snaps. 

Jon lifts his head. She's standing in the doorway, hands gripping the sides of the wall tightly.

Sansa doesn't wait for an answer. "Stop springing things on me like that, important things that we need to discuss." She strides into the room - and he realizes she's angry - no, furious - and comes to a stop in front of him. "How could you just decide to go to Dragonstone without telling me?"

Jon withholds a sigh, knowing it would only upset her more. Instead, he returns to his knapsack. "Sam said there's dragonglass there," Jon says, doggedly, "We need to fight the walkers."

"But -"

"Do you deny that?" He turns to her, all control lost. Jon is tired, tired, tired. And Sansa isn't helping. The dragonglass is at Dragonstone and if he is to use it against the Night King then he has to meet the Dragon Queen. "Do you deny that we can win this war without it?"

Sansa frowns. "I -"

"I'm King in the North, Sansa. I have to do what it takes." Jon holds her blue-eyed gaze firmly. " _Whatever_  it takes."

He goes back to the packing, although he'd finished it about the time Sansa appeared just now, and pretends to dig through it for something. 

"You could have taken me," Sansa says quietly behind his back. 

His hands still. 

"I don't care about the dragon queen, Jon." Sansa continues, still gently, but firmly. "I don't care for her demands. I just don't think that it's a good idea for you to go. Alone." 

"I'm not going alone," Jon says. 

"Davos is a small measure of protection against her. Against her  _dragons_. Not even you can survive that," Sansa says, and she sounds so exasperated that it brings a smile to his face. 

He faces her, eyebrow rising. 

Sansa frowns at him like she just doesn't understand. "Why are you smiling?"

Jon shakes his head. "And what do you think you could do if the dragon attacks?" Gods forbid. Jon has had enough of mythical creatures to last his entire lifetime. 

"Well at least we'd die together." Sansa snaps. He can tell, too late, that he'd pushed her to the edge. "Oh, take that glare off your face." 

"That's not funny," Jon glowers. 

"Isn't it?" Sansa starts to pace. "I think it's funny. I think that this feels like some sick, cruel joke - break us apart just when we've gotten together. We  _just_  came home, Jon." She stops pacing midway in the room to stare at him. Her eyes are blazing. "I  _just_  got you back. Must you tear us apart again?"

"What will you have me do?" Jon says helplessly. "There must -"

"Always be a Stark in Winterfell, I know." Sansa resumes her pacing. "I know."

Jon watches her pace, her black robe sweeping the floor as she goes. She has her hair down again today, it frames her face prettily. He still remembers the look on her face when he announced his leaving. 

She'd looked like he'd slapped her in the face. 

"You could not go." 

Jon brings himself back to the room. Sansa is standing in the middle again, but this time the look on her face is heartbreaking. 

"You could stay. Send Davos. He'd be a good emissary." Sansa's tone borders on pleading. "You know he would."

"Sansa. I can't." Jon's voice is low. "It would be rude."

"Then send a princess." Sansa breaks the border and pleads with him fully, coming towards him. "Send me instead."

Jon almost wants to smile again. "Princess, aye?"

"Well, I'm not your queen." 

He meets her gaze, brown on blue, and they stay a second longer than necessary. 

"We'd still be separated," Jon says quietly. 

"I don't care." Sansa shakes her head. Her hand reaches and finds his own. "I'd rather it be me than -"

"No." Jon grips her hand. "I'd rather it be  _me_."

"So what happens?" Sansa says, anguished. "You just leave and don't return for months?"

"I'll come back. I promise."

Sansa's brow crumples, and she rips her hand away, and moves to the window. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

* * *

Jon looks at his own hands and he thinks about the Night King.

Jon looks at Ned Stark's image and thinks,  _I hope I don't fail you._  

Jon looks at his own hand wrapped around Littlefinger's throat and thinks,  _I_ will _kill you._

Jon looks back at Sansa standing there and thinks,  _I will see you again._

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from static waves by andrew belle. 
> 
>  
> 
> (i'm not the only weird one shipping them, right? it feels so gross but SO RIGHT)


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